Snowman
by Meg Matthews
Summary: Mohinder meets up with Sylar in a rather unexpected way. Sylar needs the doctor's help in getting a new power from a being known as The Snowman. There is everything from angst, to humor, to smut in this story...and lots of violence and drugging as well.
1. Chapter 1: Collision

Chapter I: Collision

Mohinder rubbed his eyebrow absently with his right thumb as he turned the wheel. The car glided smoothly around the corner, and down the street two blocks from his apartment. He was almost home, it was nearly the weekend, and Matt had taken Molly on a three day vacation to the beach. He was about to get the house to himself, and the thought of curling up with a good book and resting was just enough to keep him going. A few drops of rain had begun to patter down onto the windshield, and he blinked back tears of sleepiness as he stifled a yawn after he pulled up to a red light. When he shook his head slightly to try and wake himself up, he spotted something out of the corner of his eye, and turned his attention to a man playing drums on the sidewalk for cash. His gaze slid indifferently over the various people going about their lives, until it came to a sudden jolting stop on a tall man in a long dark jacket.

Mohinder's breath caught in his throat as he made eye contact with Sylar. The killer was leaning back against the wall with one foot up, resting against the brick. He nodded slightly to Mohinder, and grinned. Mohinder saw Sylar's attention shift to the intersection of busy cars before him, and he turned to look too. As he did he felt an all too familiar invisible force push his body back into the driver's seat. Mohinder gasped as he attempted to grab the steering wheel, but his arms were pinned down ineffectually at his sides.

"No," he breathed, feeling his foot being pulled back from the brake. The force then slammed down on the gas pedal, and Mohinder's car lurched forward into traffic. The psychic hold on his body was released at the very moment the car collided on the driver's side with an old Buick, and its shocked driver. Mohinder's head cracked against the glass of the driver's side window, and darkness consumed him instantly.

XXXX

A train of garbled voices hummed just outside Mohinder's realm of understanding. At some point there were shouts, and beeping, and then everything had gone quiet. In the calm of night, the geneticist opened his eyes. For a moment his vision swam, and he closed his eyes quickly to keep the nausea at bay. Then with an effort he was finally able to look at his surroundings. He was in a single occupant hospital room with the curtain pulled around the left side of the bed. To his right there was a doorway. Mohinder assumed the bathroom was on the other side of the curtain. The room was fairly dark at the moment, with a single light coming from behind the bed somewhere. His left hand bumped the nurse call button/television remote, and he brushed his fingers lightly over it, resting on the buttons, but not pressing them.

He winced as pain arced through his skull, starting at the left temple, and traveling all the way to his jaw. Mohinder reached up instinctively, and felt the warm cloth of the bandage that was wrapped around his head. The motion felt strange, and he held his hand in front of his face and moved it slowly.

"Morphine."

Mohinder's attention immediately turned to the corner of the room where the voice had emanated from. He squinted into the darkness, barely able to make out the tall dark outline of a man.

"Sorry I had to resort to such a violent action, but it was important that we could have a nice face to face chat like this, without you trying to stab, drug, or shoot me every chance you got." As he spoke, Sylar stepped out of the darkness. He barely made a sound as he crossed the floor to stand next to the bed. Mohinder's heart monitor began to beep faster as he stared up at Sylar who, in the eerie single tiny light of the room, really did look like the boogeyman. Mohinder tried to press the nurse call button, but Sylar was fast, leaning over the doctor and gripping his wrist firmly to keep him from reaching it.

"I know you're drugged, but try to think clearly Mohinder. What do you suppose I'd have to do if you called someone in here for help?"

Mohinder swallowed, and relaxed his hand. Sylar lay Mohinder's arm down at his side, brushing softly against the doctor's stomach as he stood and moved around the bed to set the call button on a shelf just out of reach.

"There was an accident?" Mohinder asked.

"Yes."

"You took control of my car..."

"I did."

"And the...the other car...did they...?"

"She survived, don't worry."

Mohinder lifted his left hand to the wound again. Under the pretense of fighting off the pain in his skull, he glanced toward the door, gauging the distance. There was little chance of taking Sylar unaware, but if he could, and somehow managed to make it to the hall, he might be able to hide. Would Sylar kill someone in the time it took Mohinder to find a phone and call the company? Could they make it here before the killer ripped the building apart?

"Don't. Don't even think about it." Sylar grabbed Mohinder's wrist, and pressed his arm back into the pillow behind him. Mohinder was forced to look into Sylar's eyes. His own eyes were wide, and Sylar didn't need the heart monitor to hear Mohinder's heart skip a beat at the sudden movement.

"I'm taking you with me because I need your help. You're going to come willingly, or you're going to get a lot of people hurt, do you understand?"

"Yes," Mohinder said.

"Good. Then I'll try to make this as painless as possible."

Sylar released Mohinder's left arm, and leaned toward the right one. He was in the process of pulling the IV out when he suddenly froze. Mohinder, who was holding his breath so he didn't touch the killer any more than he had to, felt a pang of fear at Sylar's abrupt pause.

"What is it?" he asked.

"Someone's coming. If you tell her I'm here, she dies. If you try to signal to her, she dies. Understand?"

Mohinder nodded as Sylar backed away, hiding behind the curtain as the door opened. Mohinder watched as a young nurse entered, her smile glowing with the brilliant light from the hall. He winced as she left the door slightly ajar.

"Hello doctor Suresh. How are you feeling?"

"Disoriented," Mohinder said with a mild smile.

"I can imagine. Your head and your left shoulder took a pretty good knock in that accident."

Mohinder moved his shoulder automatically. He hadn't even realized it had been hurt. The morphine was doing something right.

"You were lucky really. A lot of people don't survive a trip through a red light."

"It was an accident," Mohinder said, his stomach clenching at the realization that it would all come across as being his fault. He squirmed uncomfortably as he thought of Sylar on the other side of the curtain, waiting for him to slip up.

"Well, whatever happened, everyone survived. You have an angel looking out for you, if you don't mind me saying so."

The nurse walked very close to the curtain as she looked up to check the vitals on the heart monitor.

"Did the other driver come to this hospital?"

"She did, they released her awhile ago with a few scrapes and bruises."

Mohinder's smile grew with relief. He laid back and let his attention wander for a moment as a small wave of euphoria hit when another dose of morphine was pumped into his veins. The nurse finished writing on her clipboard, then turned to him.

"I'll be back in fifteen minutes to take your blood pressure, and I'll check your O2 stats then. Do you want anything before then? Water, or ice chips, or dinner?" Mohinder turned almost lazily to look at her.

"No thanks, I'm alright." She nodded, a small curious smile on her face as she looked at him.

"I'll see you soon then."

As the nurse left, Mohinder found himself drifting back to sleep. He jerked awake again as Sylar once more set to taking out the IV. He removed it carefully, and quickly, as he did with the EKG monitors on Mohinder's chest.

"Time to wake up now," Sylar said, deftly sliding an arm under Mohinder's back, and supporting the doctor's weight. Dropping the gate on the side of the bed, Sylar sat Mohinder up, then with a swift and uncomfortable motion, the doctor was standing. He remained that way for roughly a second before a wave of dizziness caused him to brown out, and he fell limply sideways, against the killer. Sylar supported him, using telekinesis when he thought Mohinder was going to fall. In a somewhat tender display, Sylar picked up the top blanket from the bed, and wrapped it around the doctor's shoulders.

"Can you walk?"

Mohinder finally managed to steady himself, uncomfortably aware of how much his weight was supported by Sylar.

"Yes."

Sylar looked down for a moment as though focusing on a speck of dirt on the ground. Mohinder almost browned out again as the world shifted before him. The ceiling grew further away as he lost a few inches of height. Sylar too became shorter, and now had the appearance of an older man, while Mohinder looked like a nurse who's had just a bit too much to drink.

"I have breasts," Mohinder stated with only mild surprise. The drugs in his system were making the adjustment much easier.

"They're lovely," Sylar laughed, before he concentrated on something Mohinder couldn't see. After a moment, the killer determined it was safe to move, and he walked Mohinder right out of the room, down the hall, and onto the elevator. Mohinder leaned against the wall as the elevator descended, his eyes closed, his thoughts becoming more and more random. When they reached the ground level, Sylar moved still faster, urging the doctor along. Then they were free of the hospital, vanishing into the night, nothing more than two shadows in the darkness.

XXXX

Mohinder accepted the cold rag and used it to dab at his warm face. Now that the morphine was wearing off, he was beginning to feel the full effect of his impact with the car door. His left shoulder throbbed, and he winced every time he moved that arm. Pain lanced through his skull at regular intervals, and he had a hard time keeping his composure. He'd already thrown up twice. Sylar didn't seem particularly worried about this as he moved around the abandoned hide-out, indifferent. Somehow the killer had managed to help Mohinder change into gray sweats and a long-sleeved white shirt over which he also wore a light-brown jacket. Mohinder currently rested against a dirty wall, his dark curls and the bandage occasionally catching on bits of stucco. He concentrated all his effort on watching his own chest rise and fall.

"Any better?" Sylar asked after a few minutes.

"A bit," Mohinder croaked, swallowing back a bitter taste as he continued to look down.

"In a little while I'll go get you some more painkillers, if you're good. Until then I need you to listen."

"Mm," Mohinder answered..

"I've discovered a new power. It's sort of unstable. Maybe unstable isn't the word for it. Let's just say it is really hard to get to this power, but it's one I would love to collect. With me so far?" Mohinder nodded very slightly, his gaze now on his knees.

"If I had this power, I think I could increase my other powers exponentially. I would be unstoppable. And the best part is, I doubt even that empath could affect me."

"I never heard of this power," Mohinder mumbled. He chanced a look at Sylar, and was relieved to find he wasn't too nauseous to do so.

"This person doesn't go around sharing their gift with the world," Sylar said, "I sort of stumbled on him by accident when doing a little research at the library. He can control snow, and he's been alive for a very long time."

Sylar walked into the other room for a moment, at which time Mohinder made an effort of taking in his whereabouts and finding the exits, including the front door which was visible in the other room where the killer had gone. When Sylar came back in, Mohinder immediately returned his attention to his captor. Sylar was looking down at some copied papers in his hand.

"I was trying to figure out if anyone else studied special people, the kind of research you and your father have done, and I found some interesting paranormal stories. But this one stuck out to me."

Sylar handed Mohinder the stack of papers.

"I don't care about the active power, I can already make snow. From what I've gathered though, this man has been around for over 200 years, and his power seems to grow once a year. In that time of year an area of about a hundred square miles will be completely blanketed in snow for about six months. And if you look at the dates there," Sylar flipped through the pages in Mohinder's hand, and placed one of them on top of the pile, "the snow cover always corresponds with a death in the local area. The one year where there is no death listed in the past two centuries, is a year where there was an extreme decline in snowfall. There's a poem written about him. People call him the Snowman."

Mohinder's hands shook slightly as he rustled through the papers, but his attention as a scientist had been piqued, despite the pain currently emanating through his body.

"That's quite a conclusion," he said finally, looking up at Sylar, "how do you know it isn't all just coincidence?"

"I don't, but if I'm right, I could take this ability, and make it work so much better. My powers would only grow. I could move whole continents with my mind." Mohinder's head swam as he looked at Sylar, less from the pain, and more from fear of what the man could become capable of.

"And why would I help you," Mohinder asked, "especially if the entire human species is at stake?"

"Because I would be willing to strike a bargain in return," Sylar said. Mohinder frowned, and instantly regretting doing so as his head buzzed dangerously.

"What sort of bargain?"

"I would let you, your family, your friends, and within reason, anyone else you chose, live."

"I am not going to do this so that you can be a god on Earth," Mohinder said forcefully.

He dropped the papers suddenly and gasped when a new pain shot through his head. His ears began to ring so loudly that Mohinder squeezed his eyes shut, and pressed his hands over the sides of his head as if that could keep the sound out. The pressure built until he felt he was about to burst apart. Then all at once it stopped, and Mohinder sat in a miserable heap, his breathing ragged, and his heartbeat frantic. Tears fell from his eyes in response to the strain on his body. He turned sideways and retched again.

"You don't really have a choice," Sylar said, "unless you would rather die here on this floor. Just think of it as the next chapter in your book, the evolution of a god."

Mohinder wiped his mouth with the back of his trembling hand, and looked up at Sylar. He couldn't speak, and he didn't dare try. If he lost any more fluid he knew he would be in real trouble. Something seemed to shift in Sylar as he looked down at the doctor. His face went from looking angry, to confused, to concerned. He jumped up and hurried into the other room. Mohinder heard the sound of a faucet running, and then Sylar returned with another rag, and a slightly dirty glass of water.

"Drink," he said, tipping the water to Mohinder's lips. The doctor sputtered, but was forced to swallow. His throat burned as he took in the water. Sylar finally set the glass down and used the rag to clean Mohinder's face.

"I'm sorry about that," Sylar said absently, "you should get some rest."

Sylar once again helped Mohinder stand, and walked him over to the room's single, surprisingly clean mattress. The doctor lay down on his right side, and as Sylar stood watching him, Mohinder's eyes fluttered closed. He was unconscious within moments.

XXXX

Mohinder woke. His gaze trailed around the room where dust was floating lazily in the new morning light. The doctor's head and arm were still throbbing, but the pain had dulled, and when he sat up he felt the mild euphoria of narcotics. Sometime in the night, Sylar had drugged him. Looking around Mohinder saw that the floor had been cleaned where he'd last thrown up, for which he was grateful. The stack of papers from library research was lying on a rickety table beside his bed, next to a glass of water, and a bottle of pills. Picking up the bottle, Mohinder read the label. The pills had definitely been the source of his relief. He didn't even remember Sylar having him take them.

Mohinder stood carefully, and when he was sure he wasn't going to pass out, he began to explore the apartment.

"Sylar?" he called out uncertainly.

The apartment felt somehow empty, and Mohinder was beginning to eye the front door. When there was no response, he checked the remaining rooms. Sylar was gone. Mohinder hurried to the front door and attempted to turn the knob. He wasn't surprised when it didn't give at all. On closer inspection he found that Sylar hadn't locked it, but had somehow jammed the door closed when he left. Mohinder pounded on the wood with the side of his right hand as hard as he could.

"Hello?! Is anyone out there? Please, I need help!"

He stopped pounding for a second in order to press his ear to the door and listen. There was no sound from the other side, no one had heard him. He pounded again, but once more there was no response. Sighing, Mohinder turned and leaned his back against the door, weighing his options.

He was feeling light-headed. With some effort he went to the sink and cupped his hands under the running water, drinking as fast as he could, as much as he dared. He hadn't realized how incredibly thirsty he was. When it was apparent he could not take in too much more and safely keep it down, he turned off the faucet and wiped his mouth.

Mohinder squinted as he was blinded by a ray of morning light, and he put a hand up to shield his eyes before walking to the window. It was locked, but it was still made of glass, and glass was breakable. The window looked out to a poorly tended back yard with a broken fence. Mohinder searched around for something to break it with, and spotted the best weapon for the job when he happened to glance up and see the unused curtain rod that hung loosely above the window. Tugging it down with both arms, and wincing as his left shoulder flared in protest, Mohinder wielded the rod like a bat, and smashed the window. It took two blows to shatter the glass. The third blow opened a large hole in the window, and by the fifth strike Mohinder had a hole big enough to fit through. He ran the rod along the bottom of the window pane to knock away any excess glass, then he slowly maneuvered his way through the hole, inhaling sharply whenever he accidentally cut himself.

He fell to the ground outside, silently thankful for the fact that there was soft earth to cushion his fall. Taking just a moment to catch his breath, he rolled over and forced himself to stand. He'd cut his feet on the many shards that had fallen to the ground, and soon he felt dirt and blood mixing to form an earthy bandage over his fresh wounds. Mohinder limped quickly to the broken fence, crouching to squeeze through one of the large gaps in the wood, and pushing through to the other side where he spotted a street. Uncomfortably aware of every wound on his body, Mohinder began to feel sluggish. But he pressed on, leaving bloody footprints as he stepped onto the road, desperately wishing someone would drive by. The place appeared deserted, tucked away in the back of an alley. It was perfect for hiding, he realized grimly.

Mohinder limped through the alley. He had spotted the main road, and to his relief, he even saw some cars. He sped up, wincing with every other step, but only concentrating on reaching the road, getting help, getting as far away from there as he could. A chill ran down his spine and clenched his stomach when he saw the familiar dark figure come around the corner of the alley ahead, standing in between Mohinder and the street full of cars. He froze.

"I was getting breakfast. I figured you must be pretty hungry by now," Sylar said as he lifted a grocery bag to indicate his shopping trip. Sylar took a step forward, and Mohinder fell back a pace in response.

"I can see the apartment wasn't as secure as I'd hoped. I'm guessing I should have boarded up the window."

"Yes," Mohinder said, looking from Sylar to the road behind him, acutely aware of how far away the cars all seemed in that moment.

"Why don't you come back inside with me, where it's safe, and we'll have something to eat. It's not a good idea to be outdoors without shoes you know."

"I'd rather stay out here if it's all the same," Mohinder said, taking another step back as Sylar moved toward him again.

"You look a little accident prone doctor, I really think it's best if you remain indoors."

Sylar grinned as he continued to close the distance between Mohinder and himself. Mohinder steeled himself to run the other way, try desperately to find another exit, but his actions were preceded by gunshots. Sylar dropped the bag as he spun, a hand held up defensively, halting the bullets in mid-air. Mohinder jerked in surprise, then smiled in momentary relief as he spotted Matt over Sylar's shoulder. A second later there was a loud snap like a fire-cracker, and Sylar went flying into the far wall, a victim of Elle's expert targeting. The bullets fell to the ground at the same time as the killer.

"Hit him again," Matt said.

Elle complied, zapping Sylar with another volt of electricity, causing him to shudder violently, then collapse against the wall, hissing in pain. She raised her hand to strike him another electric blow, but Mohinder called out.

"Stop! Don't kill him!"

Mohinder was as surprised as Matt and Elle at his own response. He couldn't take his eyes from Sylar. The killer was slumped at an angle against the wall, blood trailing in a pool from his mouth. He looked up at Mohinder, his eyes unfocused.

"Don't kill him," Mohinder repeated, "just knock him out. Take him to the company. He could be of use to us." Matt complied happily, walking toward the killer, crouching down, then dealing out a blow with his fist that rendered Sylar unconscious instantly.

"You look like hell Doctor Suresh," Elle pointed out, looking Mohinder up and down.

"I'm starting to feel worse than that," Mohinder said. He leaned against the nearest wall for support as he looked gratefully at Matt and Elle.

"How did you know?" he asked.

"Molly wanted to check up on you. She found out you were with him," Matt indicated Sylar, "and we decided to cut our vacation short."

"I'm glad you did," Mohinder smiled.

"Let's get you to the company. They'll make you good as new," Elle insisted.

She hurried over to support Mohinder's weight and help him limp to their waiting car, as Matt dragged Sylar behind them. When Mohinder was securely in the back seat, he leaned his forehead against the cool glass of the window, and relaxed, watching the cars go by. In his haze of thoughts the image of the papers on the table kept cropping up. One word played through Mohinder's mind over and over: Snowman.


	2. Chapter 2: Snowman

Chapter II: Snowman

One Year Later

_Snowman_

_Within our valleys_

_for many a year_

_there lives an old soul_

_who inspires great fear_

_his voice is the earth_

_a rumbling growl_

_his wolves are like fire_

_a terrible howl_

_he eats up your soul_

_consumes it like bread_

_and soon you'll be found_

_all frozen and dead_

_he lives in his cave_

_it's all that he knows_

_he controls the snow fall_

_and how the wind blows_

_and while he has souls_

_he will live on and on_

_until the last semblance _

_of winter is gone._

_-Poem from a valley in Northern Quebec_

Mohinder spun his chair around, his mind wandering as the room blurred into a kaleidoscope of lab equipment and bland walls..

"Taking a break, doctor?"

Mohinder caught the edge of his desk to stop spinning, and looked up at Bob with an embarrassed smile.

"Sorry, I was lost in thought," he said.

"That's quite alright. Anything I can help you with?" Bob asked.

"Actually, I'd like your permission to go on a bit of an expedition," Mohinder said.

"An expedition? Where?"

"North. I've recently come upon some further evidence to verify research that Sylar had done. I believe there may be a man with an extra-ordinary ability, and I would like the chance to meet him, talk to him, offer him our help in any way."

"Is this about project Snowman?"

"It is. In my research I traced the lineage of a Scottish family with a history of powers. Roughly 200 years ago some members of that family migrated to a valley in Canada. The events, and the family history, mesh with what Sylar told me."

"If what I remember is correct, it sounds like a dangerous situation."

"I'll make sure to bring my gun. We both know I'm capable of using it."

Bob smiled wryly.

"Okay Suresh, you can go. Do whatever you think is necessary to bring the Snowman here. What do you think you will need for this trip?"

Mohinder looked around his lab.

"I think I have what I need actually. Mainly I could use transportation, and if it's possible, I would like to talk to Sylar before I go."

Bob shifted noticeably, but his smile remained.

"As you know, Sylar is still going through rehabilitation. I think it's best if you don't see him. You seem to have an affect on him that makes it harder to...keep him in check. You remember of course the last time you two met, this building was almost torn apart."

Mohinder licked his lips slightly. He looked down, unable to return Bob's gaze just then.

"I'm sorry about that. He'd caught me by surprise," Mohinder said.

"I know, doctor. No one's blaming you."

"I'll go home and pack now," Mohinder said, changing the subject, "I would like to meet this man as soon as I can."

"Be safe, Suresh. We'd like you to return to us whole and well, understood?"

"

Of course." Mohinder smiled.

XXXX

The snow crunched under Mohinder's boots. His face stung from the chill. After stamping his feet so he wouldn't track water inside, he opened the glass door to a small diner, barely registering the familiar ringing of doorbells as he entered. A plump young woman approached him, smiling pleasantly.

"Just one today?"

"Yes."

She led Mohinder to a booth by the window, placing a menu in front of him as he sat down.

"Coffee?"

"Yes please," Mohinder said, setting his bag on the seat beside him as she turned his cup over to fill it.

"I'll be back in a minute to take your order," she said, her eyes lingering for an uncomfortable moment on Mohinder's face before she blushed and walked quickly away. Mohinder tried to contain a grin, flattered by the young woman's attention. He skimmed the menu, pretending to be interested in its contents until she returned.

"Ready to order?"

"I'll have some hash browns, and a Belgian waffle with strawberries, please."

"Lots of cream?"

"Definitely."

"Alrighty. Anything else?"

"Yes actually. I'm here doing research on legends. Do you know anything about the Snowman?" Mohinder smiled innocently at her. Her features changed drastically, the corners of her mouth curling down into a disapproving frown.

"That's not exactly something we go sharing with strangers. Especially _foreigners_."

Mohinder's smile became fixed.

"It seems like a fascinating story. I would love to document it. I just need to know where to look."

"Well I can't help you, sorry." She turned to leave.

"I can pay you," Mohinder said.

The waitress paused, looking back at Mohinder as she bit her bottom lip anxiously.

"It's dangerous out there, honey. You don't know what it is you'd be getting yourself into."

Mohinder was taken aback by her sincerity.

"I have some idea," he said.

She looked around the diner for a moment, then slipped into the booth across from Mohinder.

"Every year someone dies out there. We find their remains once the snow has melted. There's usually only a few bones left. There's many times that people have suggested moving from this village. They say it's like a lottery; choosing to live here is setting yourself up to die. The only reason I haven't left is because I don't have the money. It's at the first snow that someone always goes missing. It never fails. We don't know how he chooses them. They usually disappear quietly as you please from their beds in the middle of the night, or from behind their houses. Anywhere that's covered in snow is fair game. He doesn't distinguish between children and adults. A few have seen him, catching just a glimpse when he came to take one of their family. What you're looking for isn't a legend, it's a person, as real as you or me."

Mohinder hung on her every word, fascinated and fearful by the thought of this strange man.

"Do you know where I would go to find him?" Mohinder asked.

The waitress looked down at her hands, wringing them tightly together, struggling with something.

"How much are you going to pay me?"

Mohinder turned and rummaged through his bag, pulling out a Company checkbook. He wrote a number on one of the checks with four zeroes. He ripped it out of the book and slid it across the table to the waitress.

"This should be enough to get you out of this village. I assure you that it will not bounce. There's even an address on there to reach my company if you have any questions."

The waitress took the check from him, her gaze lingering on the dollar amount. Mohinder noticed that her hands shook slightly.

"There's a path into the valley. I'll draw you a map." Her voice sounded distant, as though she had suddenly lost something very important. Mohinder watched her stand and leave the table. She never made eye contact with him. A few minutes passed before she returned, carrying his plate of breakfast. She also set a piece of paper down, and Mohinder glanced at it, impressed by the attention to detail.

"Your meal is on the house," she said, smiling vaguely and walking away to check on another table. Mohinder watched her for a moment, then began to eat. It was a large valley, and he would need his strength.

XXXX

Mohinder adjusted his bag on his shoulder as he stopped to catch his breath for a moment. Thick plumes of air blossomed before him when he exhaled, and he had a headache from the cold. With an effort, he forced his legs to move forward again. Despite being in good physical health, he found that walking through the snow was taking an incredible toll on his body. He'd been traveling for six hours, and the sun was beginning to set. Mohinder was getting nervous. He realized it was time to make a fire while he still had the light to search for wood. As Mohinder looked through a small clearing of trees, trying to find a spot not completely covered in snow, he spotted a cave. Relief swept over him at the thought of being able to rest somewhere dry.

Mohinder hurried to the cave. In his haste to reach the shelter he overlooked the dangers of the terrain, and was sharply reminded when he tripped over a snow-covered log, and fell painfully onto his stomach. His hands moved instinctively to cushion his fall, and he winced as the sharp edge of a rock bit into the flesh of his left palm. He watched the ribbon of blood streaming from his hand as it collected in a crimson pool upon the snow.

"That was smart," he said aloud.

He stood slowly, careful not to put any pressure on his left hand. Adjusting his bag carefully with his right hand, he remained in place for a moment, collecting his bearings. Feeling a little sick from falling down and losing blood, Mohinder had to force himself to focus again on getting to the cave. He stumbled slightly over dips and bumps in the landscape as he walked on. A small trail of blood followed him, dripping from the hand he now held out, palm-up,. Mohinder decided to wait until he was safely inside before attending to his wound.

As he reached the mouth of the cave, Mohinder smelled something cooking. He tensed when he walked into the cave and saw a flickering light in the distance.

"Hello? Is anyone here?"

"You're a long way from home."

Mohinder spun to face the man who stood in the entrance. The doctor's right hand flew to the gun concealed under the back of his coat, but he did not pull it out.

"Do you live here?" Mohinder asked.

"I do."

The man's voice was strong, and deep. Mohinder heard the faded lilt of a Scottish accent.

"I didn't mean to intrude. I've had a bit of an accident, and was looking for a place to rest," Mohinder said.

The man stepped further into the cave and Mohinder was able to see his solid features and blonde hair. The man looked roughly forty years old. His face was stony and weathered, but handsome. It matched his voice which was earthy. He was only a few inches taller than Mohinder, but he seemed like a giant. He gently took Mohinder's left hand in his, and looked at the wound.

"That's a deep cut. We'd better tend to that."

Mohinder's right hand fell away from the gun, and he allowed himself to be led by the stranger deeper into the cave.

"I don't get many visitors out here," the man said, "it's always nice to see another human face. My dogs don't offer up much conversation."

"Dogs?"

"Sweet little guys. They get me around out here. Best form of transportation in the snow."

"I'll remember that," Mohinder said.

The sweet smell of meat was getting stronger, and he realized his stomach was growling. The man turned to him and smiled as he walked.

"After we get you cleaned up you can share some dinner with me," the man said.

"Thank you."

They reached the part of the cave where the fire was burning. A large pot was hung from wooden beams over the flames. Inside the pot was a stew with some meat, and various plants that Mohinder could not identify.

"Have a seat," the man pointed to a rough cushion on the floor by the fire.

Mohinder sat, lifting his bag over his head and setting it on the ground beside him. The man rummaged around in a tatty leather bag in the corner, and pulled out an old container, a long cloth bandage, and a rag.

"It's not modern, but it does the trick," he said, showing Mohinder the container as he kneeled on the floor beside him.

Mohinder watched as the man dipped his fingers into the salve and smoothed it gently over the open wound. It stung at first, but after a moment there was a cool numbness in Mohinder's palm. The stranger deftly wiped away the excess blood with the rag, then wrapped the bandage securely around the whole hand.

"Feel better?"

"Much better. I don't know how to thank you for this kindness."

Mohinder looked into the man's light-blue eyes. The man returned the gaze, looking into the doctor's eyes as though he were searching for something. Mohinder shifted uncomfortably, and turned his attention back to his hand.

"Dinner's almost done," the man said.

The man carried the salve and the rag back to the corner he'd found them in.

"How long have you lived here?" Mohinder asked, trying to sound casual.

"It seems like forever," the man said, "I came here when I was a teenager."

"Do you visit town often?"

"Once in awhile, when I need supplies. Where do you hail from? Your accent isn't local."

"I'm from India. I came to America to follow up on my father's research."

"Do you miss it?"

"At times I do. I miss teaching, and I miss my family."

"And your father? What happened to him?"

"He was murdered."

The man nodded as though expecting that answer, and walked over to the fire where he began to ladle stew into two bowls.

"I'm sorry to hear that. The world is a scary place."

The man picked up a cloth and wrapped it around one of the earthenware bowls before handing it to Mohinder along with a spoon.

"What sort of research do you do?"

Mohinder paused when the spoon was halfway to his mouth.

"I'm a geneticist. I look for people with special abilities."

The man stopped ladling into his own bowl, and turned to Mohinder.

"What sorts of abilities? Like intelligence?"

"More like abilities you'd find in the science fiction section of the library. I've met a man who could fly, and a young woman who could heal from any wound. I live with a girl who can find anyone in the whole world just by thinking about them. I don't expect you to believe me of course, but they are out there."

A strange smile played across the man's face, and he finished ladling his stew, then sat back to eat it thoughtfully. Mohinder ate his, and found it was delicious.

"This is wonderful," he said.

"Thank you."

The man turned and picked up a glass bottle, and two cups from his small set of dishes. The bottle was half full of an amber colored liquid. He poured some of the liquid into each cup, then handed one of the cups to Mohinder.

"Have a drink with me."

Mohinder leaned forward to take the cup. The man took several gulps from his own, before setting it down beside himself, and finishing the stew. Mohinder took a small sip and tasted a sweet honey-like alcohol.

"Did you distill this yourself?" Mohinder asked.

"I did. I make a lot of things myself. It's inevitable when you live on your own like I do."

"I guess it would be."

Mohinder took another drink, and set the cup down by his side while he ate.

"You're a good person."

Mohinder looked at the man, confused, "excuse me?"

"I can tell you're not lying to me, and despite that gun you're hiding, you have no intention to hurt me. I know you're telling the truth about those with special abilities, because I'm one of them."

Mohinder set down his bowl at the revelation.

"Are you him then? Are you the Snowman?"

"I'm him."

Mohinder shook, partly from fear, but mostly from excitement.

"I'm sorry about the gun. I brought it as a precaution. I'd heard so many stories about you."

"Perfectly understandable," the man smiled.

"Do you really control snow?" Mohinder asked. The man nodded slightly, and lifted his hand, palm out. Mohinder watched as it began to snow lightly right there in the room with them. Just as quickly as they had started to fall, the white flakes disappeared.

"In many ways I am the snow up here. I can't go where the snow isn't. I can only travel to town in the winter. When Spring hits, I retreat back up here into this cave. For some reason I'm okay in here. I think it's because the land here is always covered in snow whether it's winter, or the middle of summer."

"That's fascinating," Mohinder said, "I wish there was some way I could get you back to New York with me. What happens when you go where there isn't snow?"

"I become weak. It's terrifying. It's like death himself has gotten hold of me. I hate it."

"If I could take a sample of your blood with me, I might be able to manipulate your ability. With study I could figure out a way for you to join the rest of the world."

"I don't mind it up here," the man said quietly as Mohinder turned to rummage through his bag, "I'm happy with my life."

Mohinder stopped searching and turned to the man, "you would always have the choice of staying here of course, I'm just giving you options."

"I don't deserve options," the man said. Mohinder frowned.

"What are you talking about?"

The man looked at Mohinder anxiously, then something in what he saw changed him, and he smiled pleasantly.

"You're a good man. A good soul. I'm glad you came here. We can talk about taking some of my blood tomorrow. For now you should rest."

Mohinder opened his mouth to speak, then thought better of it. Instead he picked up the sweet liquor and drank again from the cup. He looked into the fire, feeling the welcome warmth on his face. With the hearty meal in his stomach, he was feeling very content. He was unaware that the man was watching him as he drank once more from the cup before setting it down at his side.

"Sleep well, be well. It's going to be okay," the man whispered too quietly for Mohinder to hear. The doctor's breathing began to get deeper as he continued to look into the fire. The flames crackled warmly as Mohinder's eyes fluttered shut.

"It's going to be okay," the man repeated.

XXXX

Mohinder's heart thundered in his chest as he walked to Sylar's cell, a large hypodermic needle grasped in his hand. With a deep breath he swiped his card and slipped into the room. Sylar was lying calmly on a bed in the corner. He smiled when he saw Mohinder.

"I was hoping to see you soon.".

"Really? Why's that?" Mohinder asked.

"I thought that would be obvious," Sylar said, sitting up in the bed and swinging his legs around so his feet touched the floor.

"I'm afraid I don't speak serial killer, so you'll have to put it in laymen's terms," Mohinder said, frowning.

It had been five months since Sylar had kidnapped him, and his urge to bolt was not dulled by the fact that he was supposedly the one in control there, in the safety of the Company.

"You saved my life doctor. You could have let her kill me, but you didn't."

"You can blame my lapse in judgement on the fracture to my skull," Mohinder said. Sylar smirked and glanced at the needle.

"More tests?" he asked casually.

"Just a precaution," Mohinder said, lifting the needle and setting it on the counter against the wall.

"You think I'll hurt you?"

"Going off of past experiences, should I have reason to think different?" Mohinder asked.

Sylar stood quickly, and laughed when Mohinder took a sudden step backwards.

"Did you know they're training me here? They're trying to mold me into one of their own little supernatural soldiers."

"Is that so?"

"You didn't know that?"

"I have more important things to do with my time than worry about what they are or are not doing with you Sylar. I'm trying to help people, and I'm happy as long as you're not on the street hurting them."

"Perhaps I'm just biding my time here until I can get back to the street. Maybe I'm just hoping to meet that pretty little daughter of yours again, and take her delicious power."

Mohinder clenched his teeth, and silently cursed Bob for making him come down here. He had no idea what to say to this man, and he wasn't sure what test Bob was performing in bringing them together.

"If that's the case, I think I'll have a talk with them. You can't change a deluded psychopath. I don't know why they bother."

Sylar calmly walked across the room toward Mohinder. The doctor's jaw twitched as he fought to contain his fear.

"Why are you so frightened? You know there are three guards in the hall, and they'd be here in a second to cut me down."

"I don't..."

"Afraid of the big bad killer? The boogeyman who haunts your dreams night after night."

"I don't give you a second thought these days," Mohinder said.

Sylar blinked, taken aback by the statement.

"I find that hard to believe," Sylar said, forcing himself to smile.

"It's the truth. Why should I worry about an insignificant man whose greatest achievement in life was to be a parasite, sucking the life out of others, and still remaining just as useless. You're not worth the shirt on your back, _Sylar_."

Mohinder smiled, fueled by his anger, and sudden bravery. Sylar closed the distance between them in an instant, gripping Mohinder's right forearm with his left hand. The doctor jerked back instinctively, but the grip held. Sylar was forcing Mohinder to look him in the eye.

"I am not insignificant," Sylar growled.

"You are. You always have been. Your only legacy is inspiring fear, and you can't even do that anymore."

"I am NOT insignificant!"

"Face it Sylar, you're nothing! And to me you will always be nothing! I won't be bothered with you any longer!"

A brilliant white light suddenly emanated from Sylar, and an electromagnetic pulse exploded through the room with a loud crackle like lightning. Mohinder was blown backward, and came to a painful stop, sliding down against the wall. The lights all went dark for a moment, then the backup lights kicked in. The room was now dark, save for two lights on the floor that offered a partial and eerie glow to everything.

When Mohinder could see again, he scrambled up, and ran to the counter to grab the hypodermic. Sylar was too fast for him, waving a hand and pinning Mohinder roughly against the wall, just inches from the counter, with telekinesis. Mohinder could only watch as Sylar walked toward him.

"It's always the same with you, hiding behind your science. You can't help everyone, and yet you continue to try. I'm thinking your efforts are just a little misguided."

Sylar twitched a finger toward the door, and Mohinder heard a sharp click. There was a frantic pounding on the other side of the door. Sylar held out his right hand, and the needle flew from the counter. He caught it easily.

"You're afraid of power. You aren't trying to help people, you're trying to keep them in check."

"I'm not afraid of power. I just have no use for it," Mohinder said.

His gaze lingered on the needle in Sylar's hand. The killer smiled again as he listened to Mohinder's heartbeat escalate.

"I could have shared so much with you," Sylar said, walking so close to Mohinder that the doctor could feel warm breath on his neck, "if we had found the Snowman together, I could have shared the world with you."

"I highly doubt that."

Mohinder breathed sharply in through his nose as Sylar suddenly held the needle against his neck, pressing the point softly into his flesh. Every muscle in the doctor's body tensed as he realized he was about to die. The serum knocked a person out if injected to some part of the torso, but a direct injection into the jugular was a death sentence. He was guessing Sylar knew this.

"You can think what you like doctor. I was telling the truth. I would have shared it all with you. It's too late for that now."

"Sylar." It was all Mohinder could say as his mind struggled with his impending mortality.

Sylar stood there for a moment, breathing evenly, looking up into Mohinder's eyes. Then he stepped back. The needle was dropped, and Mohinder took in several shaky breaths. Sylar then let Mohinder fall, and the doctor collapsed to the floor, and leaned back against the wall. He put a hand to his neck, bringing it forward to see a small smearing of blood.

"How insignificant am I now, doctor?"

As Mohinder looked up there was a loud crack, and the door tore open. Doctor and killer both looked in the direction of the sound, and a moment later a number of people entered the room, Elle among them. Sylar held his hands up casually in surrender.. Elle's bottom lip pouted out as she closed her palm, snuffing out the sizzling electric energy ball she'd been ready to fire.. Mohinder turned to the killer and his mouth fell slightly open at seeing Sylar's submission.

"You okay, doctor?" Elle asked.

"Yes."

Mohinder stood as he continued to look at Sylar. The killer looked back at him, a strange smile playing on his lips as he silently dared Mohinder to break eye contact with him.

"We would have made a great team, doctor," Sylar said.

Mohinder finally forced himself to break eye-contact when the lights flickered back on. He struggled to hide the fact that he was trembling as he turned to look at Elle.

"We've got it under control," she said, "you can go."

Mohinder nodded slightly, and walked to the door.

"Come back and visit soon, Mohinder," Sylar said.

Mohinder paused for only a moment before he left the cell, hurrying down the hall. When he felt like he was far enough away, he stopped and leaned against a wall, fighting to overcome a slew of emotions, not the least of them panic.

"He can't hurt you. He won't hurt you. You're safe." He repeated this over and over to himself. Even as the fear began to leave him, he felt an unease he couldn't put his finger on. Sylar had been looking into his eyes as though he were searching Mohinder's soul, and willing Mohinder to see his in turn. The doctor closed his eyes and shook his head slightly to clear the thought. He didn't want to think of Sylar anymore. All he wanted was to do his job. Mohinder's job was his life. Now it was time for him to...

"Wake up Mohinder..."

XXXX

"Wake up." The voice was Sylar's.

"Wake up." Now the voice was Molly's.

"Time to get up, Mohinder." It was Matt Parkman.

Mohinder slowly opened his eyes in the darkness. He had been lying on his stomach, his head resting on the cushion he'd been using before. The last embers of the fire crackled feebly. He pulled himself up until he was sitting back on his knees. A coarse blanket fell from his back; the man had placed it over him while he'd slept. Mohinder rubbed his eyes, feeling a heaviness in all his movements. He blinked several times to try to clear his vision of a slight fuzziness, but it did not dissipate. Squinting into the darkness of the room, he could not find the man. He stood slowly, leaning against the wall when his vision left him for a moment, and his ears suddenly felt full of cotton. Stumbling forward a few steps, Mohinder's foot met with something on the floor, and he heard it clank as it rolled away. When his vision finally cleared he looked down to see the cup he had been drinking from, and a small trail of amber liquid spreading across the floor.

"Drugged," he whispered, sensing the room coming into sharper focus as fear jolted his system into action. His right hand strayed to his back, searching for the gun. It was gone. He looked desperately around for his bag, but it too had disappeared. The man wanted him there, unarmed, and immobile. Mohinder had a good idea why. He decided not to wait around and prove his theory correct.

Mohinder stumbled blindly toward the front of the cave, carefully dragging the fingers of his left hand over the wall to guide himself. He shivered from both cold and fear as he stepped out into the snow. A full moon loomed over the vast landscape, lighting the doctor's path. He searched through the snow for hints of the Snowman's whereabouts, and saw some fresh footprints walking around the left of the cave and disappearing from view. Mohinder headed right. His pace quickened when he heard the distant barking of wolves. At times his vision would go dark again, and he'd get the same feeling of cotton in his ears like he was about to faint. When this happened he would pause for just a moment, forcing his body to overcome the drugs, and continue on. The moon continued to move across the sky, and after an excruciatingly long time, Mohinder saw the sun beginning to rise. He welcomed the warmth it would bring as he fell down for the tenth time, and picked himself back up. His strength was leaving him fast, and he'd have no choice but to rest soon. Wiping the snow from his long lashes, Mohinder wished desperately that he were at home with Molly and Matt, sleeping in his own warm bed, blissfully unaware of his body which now throbbed with exhaustion and pain from the treacherous walk.

'I'm going to die out here,' he thought, 'and they will never find my body.'

As Mohinder leaned against a tree to steady himself and catch his breath, he thought of Molly. She had lost so many people, and now he would be one more. He hoped she would forgive him for leaving her. He had promised her time and again that he would not go anywhere. Now as he stood lost in the wilderness, he realized he would have to break that promise.

As he wiped a frustrated tear from his eye, Mohinder looked up, and was suddenly blinded by a brilliant light. When his eyes finally adjusted, he realized that something was reflecting the rising sun in his direction. Squinting to see better, he was shocked to find that the reflecting surface was the glass of a window. There was a house up ahead.

Mohinder focused his remaining strength, and trudged quickly through the snow toward the house. Several minutes later he saw it clearly before him. It was old and white, roughly two stories tall. The paint was chipping away. A set of stairs led directly to the second story, while the first story seemed to act as a storage shed. There were boxes stored there, full of kindling and paper. Mohinder was most fascinated by the green that surrounded the house. As he came to stand on it, he saw that it was grass. For several feet around the house the snow was melted, and Mohinder gazed upon a machine that ran on a generator. It was the source of the snow-melt, having heated all the snow with a constant stream of hot water which ran in partially concealed tubes under the ground. Someone had put a lot of effort into making sure this house did not see snowfall.

Gripping the wide wooden rail, Mohinder pulled himself up the stairs, feeling his legs burn with every step. He knocked loudly when he reached the door, leaning against the staircase wall for support as he waited. There was no response. He knocked again, and was met once more with silence.

Not concerned with being polite any longer, he tried the door-knob, and found to his great relief that it gave way under his good hand. Mohinder cautiously entered the house, looking around for the homeowner.

"Hello? Is anyone here? I'm sorry for coming in like this, but..."

He trailed off when he reached the livingroom and saw the body on the floor. An elderly man was sprawled on his back, his right hand clutching at his chest. His face was frozen in a look of mild surprise. Mohinder estimated he had been dead a few days, and that the probable cause was a heart attack. He kneeled beside the man and gently closed his eyes so that the body looked at rest. Mohinder said a short prayer in Tamil. As he was standing he spotted the old telephone sitting on a small table by the couch. Without hesitation, he rushed to the phone and began to dial, feeling strangely elated at the familiar sound of the dial tone.

"Please be there, please be there," he whispered.

"This is Bob."

Mohinder smiled with relief as he heard his bosses's voice.

"Bob, thank god! . I've made a mistake. I just barely escaped with my life, and I need your help. You have to get Molly, have her find me. Then send one of your..."

"Mohinder, slow down. Are you okay? What happened?"

"The Snowman. I walked into a trap. But I got away. You need to send someone here to get me. They need to be very careful in the snow, it's dangerous. He's there. I don't know how powerful he is. I think he was trying to take my life-force. Better yet, send two people. It's safer that way..."

Mohinder trailed off as he looked out the window at the landscape. There were tracks in the snow. Some were paw prints, and some looked like they belonged to a sled. As he watched, the dogs circled back into view. But they weren't dogs, they were wolves, and they were pulling the sled with the Snowman. He brought them to a stop, as he looked up at the window. He couldn't directly see Mohinder from outside, but he must have sensed him there.

"Mohinder? Talk to me, Suresh."

"He'd be too powerful for them," Mohinder said quietly, "he'd kill them. Don't send anyone, Bob. I have to wait him out. Just know that I'm alive for now. Tell Molly I love her."

Mohinder hung up the phone, and collapsed onto the couch. He shivered from exhaustion, but the soft cushions under his body were beginning to relax him. Ignoring the body on the floor, he lay down on the couch, and closed his eyes. Seconds later he was asleep.

XXXX

Mohinder walked toward the cave. It was drawing him in, he had no choice. The Snowman stood in the entrance, holding out a hand toward him, beckoning him in.

"It'll be okay," the Snowman said, "it doesn't hurt. You won't feel a thing."

A knocking sound caused the Snowman to look around.

"You were followed?" he asked. The knocking grew louder. Mohinder watched the cave swirl away. The knocking continued.

Mohinder opened his eyes. He was on the couch, and someone was knocking at the door. As he sat up, he looked at the body on the floor. The man hadn't moved. Of course, Mohinder hadn't really expected him to. He didn't relish telling the man's family why he was staying in his house uninvited, leaving the dead body on the floor, but the knocking couldn't be ignored for much longer. As he stood, Mohinder was relieved to find the drugs had worn off. He rubbed his right eye with the back of his hand as he reached the door. Suddenly remembering his predicament, he took his hand from the knob, and called out warily.

"Who's there?"

"Mohinder, it's Maya. We're here to help you."

Mohinder smiled and opened the door, happy to greet his saviors. His heart skipped a beat when he saw the tall, lean, and smiling man standing next to Maya. Sylar took a step forward.

"It's been a long time, doctor."


	3. Chapter 3: Connecting

Chapter III: Connecting

"Are you okay?" Maya's eyes were wide: concerned.

Mohinder tore his gaze away from Sylar to look at the woman.

"What's going on?" Mohinder asked.

"You're very important to the company. They had me bring Sylar because he can protect you. It was not my choice," Maya looked warily at the killer.

"I'm not going to hurt you," Sylar said, taking a step toward Mohinder and placing a hand on the doctor's arm. He tensed. Sensing Mohinder's discomfort, Sylar pulled his own hand away. He looked awkwardly around the room before placing his hands in his pockets and staring down at the ground.

"So what is there to eat in this place?" Sylar asked as Maya stepped in and closed the door.

"I ha-haven't had a chance to look yet," Mohinder said, swallowing back his anxiety at being so close to the killer again.

"Mind if I check it out?" Sylar asked.

Mohinder shrugged, and Sylar stepped past him.

"There's a body in the livingroom," Mohinder said, "I believe the man who owns this house died of a heart attack."

"Creepy," Sylar said. Mohinder could hear the smile in his voice.

Mohinder looked at Maya who was distracting herself by taking in the house.

"It is cozy here. But too cold," she said, rubbing her hands over her dark coat to warm her arms.

"I didn't get around to making a fire. I fell asleep on the couch," Mohinder said with an apologetic smile.

"It's okay. I will make one," she said, walking past Mohinder toward the livingroom so she could check out the fireplace. The doctor lingered in the doorway, looking first toward the livingroom, then to the kitchen where Sylar had disappeared. Finally his feet moved of their own accord, and he followed Maya to the fireplace.

XXXX

"Dinner fit for a king," Sylar said, setting down three bowls of soup on the coffee table in the livingroom. Maya and Mohinder had moved the body into the utility room, wrapping it in a sheet.

"Thanks," Mohinder said, picking up his bowl without looking at Sylar.

"There's enough food to stay here for a week if we're careful, while we work out how to leave here safely. And there's running water."

"I hope it's not that long," Maya said, glaring slightly as she looked at Sylar.

The killer grinned and sat down on the couch beside Mohinder, pulling his own bowl into his lap and lifting the spoon into his left hand.

"I hope he's not out there right now, taking another life," Mohinder said, trying to shift the bowl in his lap without using his left hand.

"Would you put a bullet in his brain if he was?" Sylar asked, looking at the doctor.

"I don't know what I'd do."

Mohinder subtly tried to shift on the couch so that his leg wasn't touching Sylar's, and accidentally knocked over his bowl. Its contents didn't even reach the floor as Sylar telekinetically flipped it all over, bringing it to rest again on the coffee table.

"Careful there, we're a bit low on supplies remember," Sylar said.

He set his own bowl on the table next to Mohinder's when he saw the bandage wrapped around Mohinder's hand.

"What happened?" Sylar asked. Maya looked too, concern in her eyes.

"I fell." Mohinder felt stupid saying it.

"Let me see." Sylar gave Mohinder no time to respond as he gripped his arm firmly, but gently.

"It's nothing," Mohinder said, swallowing uncomfortably as Sylar unwrapped his hand.

Sylar hissed in sympathy, "ouch. Someone did a good job of tending to that, but it still looks painful."

"It's alright," Mohinder said, trying to pull his hand away from Sylar's, but the other man would not let go.

"I'm not going to hurt you," Sylar insisted, looking Mohinder in the eye, "it's okay."

Mohinder focused on steadying his breathing as Sylar turned his attention back to the wounded hand. Sylar traced a thumb softly over the cut, catching Mohinder's wrist when he jerked his hand back in pain.

"Sylar," Maya said, her voice a warning.

"It's okay," Sylar repeated. All three watched as Mohinder's hand began to heal, the skin knitting back together before their eyes.

"You stole another power," Mohinder said, eyes wide as he looked up at Sylar.

"I've stolen many powers, Mohinder."

The doctor finally pulled his hand free of Sylar's grasp, looking at the palm which now showed no sign of its unfortunate contact with the rock.

"Good as new," Sylar said, picking up his soup again and eating happily. Mohinder moved to the far side of the couch before retrieving his bowl and eating as fast as he could.

"Are you late for something?" Sylar asked with a grin.

"Sylar, that's enough," Maya said.

Sylar's gaze turned dangerous as he looked at her.

"Sylar," Maya repeated.

He held her gaze for a moment, before shrugging and looking down at his own bowl. Maya relaxed her shoulders, and smiled warmly at Mohinder.

Mohinder finished his soup, set the bowl on the table, and leaned back into the couch to stare thoughtfully at the crackling fireplace. He was tired again, and felt strange, like he hadn't eaten in a few days, or hadn't slept in a long time. There was a weakness settling into him that had nothing to do with the exhaustion of running through the snow, or the fear of seeing Sylar. Something had happened to him.

"Are you alright?"

Mohinder jumped slightly, turning to Sylar.

"What?"

"You look a little sick."

"Should I get a cool rag?" Maya asked.

"No, I'm alright," Mohinder said, "I think I'm just going to take a shower and head to bed."

"I found some banana bread in the fridge. It's still good. Did you want to stay and have dessert?" Sylar raised an eyebrow, imploring Mohinder to stay with them.

"No. I need to rest," Mohinder said.

"We will talk about leaving tomorrow when you feel better," Maya said.

Mohinder nodded slightly, got up, and walked to the bathroom. He peeled his clothes off and stepped into the shower, feeling the soothing warm water wash over him. His curls hung limply about his face as he stood directly under the spout, facing toward the drain. He was rinsing away every emotion and worry from the past few days, letting them slide down the drain in swirls with the water. It felt incredibly refreshing. His mind became a haze of random thoughts as he breathed evenly, eyes closed.

After the shower he dressed, and helped himself to some of the homeowner's mouthwash. Feeling marginally better, Mohinder went to bed in the house's main bedroom, curling up comfortably under the covers. Moonlight flooded the walls, washing the room in a beautiful glow. Mohinder drifted off easily into a dreamless sleep.

XXXX

"We're low on firewood," Maya said.

Mohinder looked at the wood-box beside the fire. There was one log left.

"Is there some in the boxes in the storage area?" he asked.

He hadn't bothered to venture outside in the three days they had been there. Maya often went on walks around the house to stretch her legs. She had a hard time being around Sylar for very long. Mohinder and Sylar had settled into a pattern with one another that involved little need to communicate between them. The doctor felt much more comfortable this way. He often spotted Sylar watching him from across the room, but he tried for the most part to ignore him. They had been updating Bob daily with their situation. Mohinder didn't feel it was safe to leave the protection of the snow-less house. Maya and Sylar refused to leave Mohinder, therefore, all three were forced to accommodate one another while Bob tried to help them work out what to do. At the moment Bob was trying to get in touch with Hiro in the hopes that they could be teleported safely away from there, but so far they'd been unable to find him. It had been rumored he'd gone on an historic time traveling adventure, checking out important events first-hand from each century. Mohinder wished, for their sake, that Hiro would check in once in awhile.

"There is kindling mostly. There is enough of it to burn, but it does not burn as well or as long as the logs," she said.

"I'll go get some," Sylar offered. He was standing behind Mohinder, and the geneticist blinked when Sylar put a hand on his shoulder in a friendly manner.

"We don't want to freeze out here; kind of defeats the purpose of our little rescue mission," Sylar said with a smile.

His hand lingered on Mohinder's shoulder, and the doctor's gaze trailed from the long white fingers, up Sylar's arm, until he was looking him in the eyes. He didn't pull away. Whether it was surprise or something else, he couldn't be certain.

"Be careful," Mohinder said.

Something softened noticeably in Sylar's features, and he removed his hand from Mohinder's shoulder, using it to rub his own neck in a nervous gesture.

"I've got telekinesis, I don't even have to step on the snow," he said. He turned and left quickly. Mohinder leaned back in his chair, thankful that Maya did not have a mind-reading ability as he stared awkwardly at the floor..

XXXX

Sylar felt a swooping sensation in his stomach that had nothing to do with how fast he was descending the stairs. His mind kept trailing back to that warm shoulder, those dark eyes, the caring in Mohinder's voice. He wanted to scream, to attack, to consume Mohinder. Every moment he touched him he felt that electric energy that made him want to take Mohinder apart, and repair him so that he would bend to Sylar's will. At the same time that spark of anger in Mohinder's eyes, the fear of what Sylar was, and the memories of their violent past together all served to make the killer desire Mohinder more.

Sylar walked to the edge of the grass, kicking vaguely at a pile of snow as he looked at the trees. There was a large Maple tree, and Sylar smiled as he imagined the snap of the thick sap in the fireplace, the burning wood filling the house with a warm and sweet scent. He raised his hand to focus his ability on felling the tree; he paused when he picked up the sound of boots in the snow. He'd been so distracted that he hadn't noticed the slow breathing of sleeping wolves, the steady rasp of the stranger's lungs, or the calm beating of his heart.

"You're the Snowman," Sylar said, lowering his hand as the man came toward him, stopping just inches from the tree.

"Yes. And you have abilities. The lady too. You've both come to protect him."

"Perhaps. Why? Does he need protecting?"

"It'd be best for all of you if you just let me take him. There's no way he can wait out the winter. That generator can only go for so long, and then your little safety zone won't be so secure anymore."

"And you'll be here to swoop in and claim him?"

"I will be here to take his life-force like I have done to so many others over the years. Even now he can feel it. I'd already started when he got away. It's just a matter of time before I can finish the job."

"Why don't you just take my life right this instant if that's all you're after?" Sylar asked.

"Because your soul is tainted with too much hatred. It is not good, not pure like his."

"He's not perfect," Sylar said, raising a curious eyebrow, "I'd hardly say he's a pure soul."

"He is a good soul, I've seen it. And his life-force is all the stronger for it. He'd sacrifice himself for others. That's about as pure as it gets."

"I'm amazed that you manage to find so many _pure_ souls year after year. You've been around a long time."

"Some years aren't as good as others. There's a lot of greed and anger in the world. I occasionally have to settle for a lower standard, and believe me, I suffer for it. Your friend is a breath of fresh air. His life will do a lot of good for the winter around here. I'm part of nature here, if my gift suffers, then life for everyone around here suffers. The snow is important."

"Do you ever regret taking all these lives?"

"Every single day. I hold no false hope. My fate is hell, of that I can be assured."

"I suppose you and I are on the same path there," Sylar said, "I'm sorry I don't have more time to chat, but it's getting cold out here and I have to make dinner soon."

He raised his finger again and started to cut down the tree. The Snowman smiled, and Sylar gasped as he felt his strength disappear for a moment. The Snowman was consuming his power, blocking him from using his ability. Sylar stumbled back several steps, visibly frightened.

"Give him over to me, and you get to leave with your abilities. I've had my gift for a long, long time, and I will have no problem taking every last one of your powers away. All those lives you took will have been in vain."

"No," Sylar said, shaking his head, "it was supposed to be the other way around. It wasn't supposed to be like this."

He held out his hand, bringing forth the nuclear energy, and throwing it at the stranger. The Snowman didn't even flinch as he absorbed the power, the red energy ball exploding around him.

"I fear you're only making me stronger," the Snowman said.

"You can't have him," Sylar said, fear and anger causing his voice to shake.

"It's only a matter of time," the Snowman repeated.

Sylar backed away, keeping the man in sight as he fumbled to the stairs. When he'd reached them he turned and bolted up to the door, turned the knob, and ran inside. He closed the door with a thud, then leaned against it, chest heaving. Footsteps sounded from the livingroom, down the hall, and Mohinder came into view, looking anxious.

"Sylar, are you alright? What happened?"

"Nothing happened. I'll get the wood later," Sylar said, "we'll have to use kindling for now."

"He's out there, isn't he?" Mohinder's gaze darted to the door.

Sylar ignored him, brushing past Mohinder as he walked toward the livingroom.

Sylar? Sylar!" Mohinder grabbed Sylar's arm and forced him to stop. Sylar's heart fluttered at the contact. He looked down at the floor, concentration all his attention on Mohinder's bare feet.

"What did he do to you?" Mohinder asked, his voice tender.

"He offered me my life," Sylar said plainly. He forced himself to look Mohinder in the eye.

"In exchange for mine?"

Sylar nodded.

"Perhaps you ought to consider his offer," Mohinder said, releasing Sylar's arm.

"Perhaps."

"I'm serious, Sylar. We can't stay here much longer. We don't have the supplies. And if he's preventing you from even getting firewood, we don't have a chance."

"Listen to me," Sylar put a hand on either side of Mohinder's head, and held his gaze, "I'm not letting him take you."

Maya came into the hall in that moment, stopping short when she spotted the intimate position being held by the two men. Sylar quickly dropped his hands, and Mohinder looked away.

"You did not get the wood?" Maya asked, her voice was suspicious.

"No I didn't," Sylar said. He glared at Maya.

"What is going on between you two?" she asked.

"Nothing is going on," Sylar said. He watched as Mohinder brushed past him and Maya, heading toward the bathroom.

"I'm going to shower," Mohinder called back, sounding embarrassed.

Maya crossed her arms, her eyes narrowed at Sylar.

"What are you planning?" she asked.

Sylar rolled his eyes. He walked toward the livingroom, but Maya blocked his way.

"We are here to help him. It is our job to protect doctor Suresh. If you hurt him I'll..."

"You'll what? Cry at me? I can cut your head off in an instant Maya. I don't care how much you've trained with your power, if I wanted to _do _something, there's nothing that could stop me."

Maya's eyes got wide, and her arms fell to her sides in a fighting stance. Sylar sighed in exasperation.

"I'm not going to kill you. There's no point."

"I'll never understand why the company did not dispose of you," Maya said bitterly.

"I'm an asset," Sylar smiled, "I can do more for them than you ever could."

"You're a monster!"

"Yes, I'm that too."

Maya was growing angrier by the moment, and Sylar suddenly realized why he was egging her on. She could cause him a lot of hurt, but if he played this out right...

XXXX

Mohinder opened the bathroom door and jumped when he saw Sylar standing before him.

"Sylar, what..."

Sylar's gaze took in everything about Mohinder, from his wet curls, to his bare feet, and his white button up shirt with the top two buttons undone. He heard Mohinder's heart beating fast in his chest.

"Where's Maya?" Mohinder asked, looking over Sylar's shoulder into the empty house.

"I pissed her off, so she went for a walk," Sylar said, "we don't have much time."

"What do you..."

Mohinder was cut off as Sylar grabbed his wrist and pulled him through the doorway, before pressing him firmly into the hallway wall.

"Sylar?" Mohinder was alarmed.

He tried to push Sylar back, but the taller man easily pinned Mohinder's arms beside him on the wall.

"Shh, it's okay," Sylar leaned forward to whisper in Mohinder's ear.

"Sylar, d-don't," Mohinder stuttered as Sylar slowly began to kiss along his jaw, "please."

"I won't hurt you," Sylar whispered between kisses.

Sylar leaned forward to press himself flush against Mohinder, claiming the shorter man's mouth with his. Mohinder moaned lightly from the back of his throat, before suddenly pressing back with his tongue, tasting Sylar's mouth, delighting in the sensation of Sylar's tongue exploring his. Sylar pulled back from the kiss after lightly biting down on Mohinder's lower lip. Mohinder leaned forward as far as his position would allow and covered Sylar's lips with his own, the second kiss lasting until both men were starved for oxygen, and Sylar pulled back, gasping and smiling. Mohinder's mouth hung slightly open as his gaze followed Sylar, his chest rising and falling with his deep breaths. Sylar took a step back, quickly removing his shirt and tossing it carelessly to the floor. Mohinder fumbled with his buttons, managing to undo two of them before Sylar stepped forward to pin him to the wall again. Sylar's hardness was pressing against Mohinder's thigh through both of their jeans. He trailed kisses down Mohinder's jaw, his neck; leaned down to bite lightly at his shoulder.

Mohinder ran his fingers through Sylar's hair, gasping slightly when teeth met his flesh. Sylar trailed back up until he reached Mohinder's left ear, catching the doctor's ear-lobe in his teeth, and nibbling delicately. Mohinder closed his eyes as Sylar licked around his ear, the sensation making him incredibly hard. Mohinder's right hand trailed down to unzip his own pants, and Sylar pushed the hand back against the wall with telekinesis. Sylar then used his left hand to unbutton Mohinder's pants, snaking in past Mohinder's underwear, wrapping long fingers around his cock, and massaging; gently at first, then slowly building up speed. Mohinder leaned his head back against the wall, his eyes fluttering at the intense pleasure of the sensation.

"Mmng," Mohinder couldn't formulate a whole word as Sylar concentrated on the rest of his body, running telekinetic fingers up Mohinder's thighs, slowly down his stomach to his pelvis, entering him gently from behind. Mohinder bucked forward in surprise, causing Sylar to groan at the contact with his own hardness.

"Turn around," Sylar whispered. He released the hold on Mohinder's right hand, and the doctor turned slowly, placing his left hand flat against the wall near his head, and leaning his right temple against it as Sylar removed both sets of jeans and underwear telekinetically. He continued to massage Mohinder as he slowly pressed his own cock forward into the doctor. Mohinder gasped, tensing against the invasion and closing his eyes.

"Relax," Sylar said, kissing Mohinder's left ear as he continued to push into him. Mohinder forced himself to breath, and un-tense his muscles. Sylar leaned fully into him, then pulled back, pulling Mohinder's waist back with his right hand so the shorter man wouldn't be crushed uncomfortably into the wall. He thrust forward gently, and heard Mohinder clench his teeth at the pressure. Sylar finally managed to get a rhythm going, listening intently to Mohinder's heartbeat as he thrust into him again, and again, and again. Mohinder moaned as he felt the stimulation of his prostate. He panted as Sylar continued to stroke him, the long fingers gliding over his cock, warm and welcome.

Sylar thrust in harder still, sensing when Mohinder was comfortable enough to do so. He felt the shorter's man's body beginning to tremble, and he picked up the pace of his thrusts, and the strokes of his left hand. Flesh met flesh over and over as both men connected. Mohinder came suddenly, his mouth open and gasping. His body shuddered under Sylar's, and the taller man came too, pushing as far inside Mohinder as he dared. Sylar wrapped his arms around Mohinder, pulling the shorter man flush with his chest. Mohinder shivered, his body still jolting from the orgasm.

"I love you," Sylar mumbled into Mohinder's ear. He heard Mohinder's heart flutter, and felt his body tense slightly at these words. After a moment of just holding Mohinder against him, feeling their breath rise and fall together, Sylar stepped back slowly.

"Time to get dressed," Sylar said. Mohinder was silent as he pulled up his jeans, and buttoned them. Sylar did the same, before picking up his shirt and pulling it over his head. He reached out a hand to touch Mohinder, whose back was turned to him, but stopped, letting his arm fall to his side.

"Are you okay?" Sylar asked.

"Yes," Mohinder said, turning to look him in the eye, "surprisingly, yes."

Mohinder's fingers trembled as he finished buttoning his shirt, and he smiled as he pushed back a stray curl from in front of his eyes.

"I'll clean up," Sylar said.

Mohinder nodded and left the hall, walking to the master bedroom and closing the door behind him. Sylar watched him go, then looked at the wall. He reached out and lightly brushed his fingertips over the spot that Mohinder had pressed his hand against. It was still warm.

XXXX

Mohinder could barely contain himself during dinner. He felt dirty whenever he managed to make eye contact with Maya. And he felt like dragging Sylar into the bedroom and ripping off his clothes whenever their eyes met. It was hell, sitting there silently, forcing himself to eat his bowl of macaroni from a box. He wondered if he'd gotten brain damage from wandering so long in the snow. The man he'd hated with a passion from the moment he'd learned about his father's death now sat across from him, poking lazily at the noodles in his bowl, and Mohinder was finding it next to impossible to loathe or fear him in that moment.

"I think you should leave, Maya."

Mohinder and Maya both looked at Sylar in surprise. The comment was the first to break the silence all dinner.

"What do you mean?" she asked, her eyebrows knitting together in confusion.

"You should go. I don't think the Snowman will touch you. If you leave we'll have a longer supply of food. You won't be in danger. There's no point in all of us dying," Sylar said, not looking up from his bowl.

"I was instructed to take care of doctor Suresh, and to keep an eye on you," Maya said, the hurt evident in her voice.

"You have. I haven't killed him yet have I? I'm not going to either," Sylar said.

"Maybe now isn't the time..." Mohinder started.

"Now is the perfect time. The sooner she leaves, the faster she can bring back help, or food."

Sylar looked Mohinder in the eye.

"But she shouldn't leave at night," Mohinder pointed out.

"No, doctor, he's right," Maya said angrily, standing, "I'm not helping anyone here."

Mohinder set his bowl on the coffee table, and stood to reason with Maya.

"It's okay, you don't have to go," he said.

Sylar sat back in his chair, looking at both of them.

"Let her go Mohinder, it's better off for all of us."

"Sylar, please, it's not safe out there."

"He won't take her. She's killed too many, and there were times when she meant to. He'll want no part of that," Sylar insisted.

Maya's bottom lip quivered, and she nodded in agitation.

"Good luck, Mohinder," she said.

She turned and rushed to the front door, snatching her coat off its hangar in the hall closet as she went. Mohinder frowned at Sylar, and made to follow Maya, but got no further than the edge of the livingroom before the telekinetic force held him back.

"Sylar, what are you doing? It's not safe for her out there," Mohinder said.

"She'll be fine, I promise," Sylar said.

Mohinder heard the door slam, and he sighed as he turned to Sylar.

"Looking for an excuse to get me on my own?" Mohinder asked.

"Something like that," Sylar said, but Mohinder noticed that his smile seemed rather forced.

"Sylar, what's wrong?" Mohinder asked.

"Everything's wonderful, Mohinder," Sylar said, setting his bowl down, standing, and walking around the coffee table to wrap his arms around Mohinder. Mohinder searched Sylar's eyes for the truth, but he couldn't find it.

"Please tell me," he begged.

Sylar only grinned and shook his head. He grabbed Mohinder's left hand and pulled him to the master bedroom. Sylar pushed Mohinder onto the bed. In the splash of moonlight from the window, Mohinder could make out Sylar's features. He was licking his lips nervously, eagerly. The rest of his body was in control, aware, excited. But Mohinder noticed his eyes were wary. He didn't have much time to analyze as Sylar pinned him down to the bed, his feet still touching the floor as his back was pressed to the comforter. Sylar lay over him, one leg in between Mohinder's, the other supporting his weight on the bed beside Mohinder's right thigh. Sylar grabbed Mohinder's hands in his, lacing their fingers together. He brought Mohinder's hands up level with his curly locks, and paused to look Mohinder in the eye.

"I love you," Sylar said for the second time that day. Mohinder also licked his lips nervously.

"I love you too."

XXXX

Hours later Sylar lay, staring up at the ceiling. The back of his hand gently grazed up and down Mohinder's back as the doctor slept soundly on his stomach. Sylar had heard the generators finally die as they'd eaten dinner. He'd listened as the warm water had ceased to pump under the grass. He knew then what he'd had to do.

Turning his head to look at the beautiful man sleeping beside him, blissfully unaware of what was about to happen, Sylar felt a strong pang of regret that he needed to wake Mohinder up. He leaned over and kissed Mohinder gently on the brow, smoothing a stray curl of hair back from his face.

"Mohinder," Sylar breathed, "it's snowing."


	4. Chapter 4: Fix You

Chapter Four: Fix You

_And the tears come streaming down your face_

_when you lose something you can't replace_

_when you love someone but it goes to waste_

_could it be worse_

_lights will guide you home_

_and ignite your bones_

_and I will try to fix you_.

_- Coldplay - Fix You_

Mohinder opened his eyes in the dark. He saw Sylar watching him, felt the man's hand on his back. At first the words hadn't registered as particularly important.

"Mohinder, did you hear me?" Sylar asked.

"Snowing?" Mohinder repeated uncertainly, turning over in bed and wiping the sleep from his eyes.

"The generators stopped working," Sylar said.

Mohinder frowned as he struggled to figure out what Sylar was saying. A cold chill splashed through his body as he finally understood.

"We have to go," Mohinder said.

He sat up, searching around for his pants. Sylar stood up to retrieve his clothes. Mohinder found his jeans, and lay back on the bed, arching his body to pull them on in a hurry. Sylar pulled on his pants. Mohinder's heart thundered as he laced up his boots, not bothering to find his socks. Sylar chewed his bottom lip as he pulled his own shoes on.

Mohinder walked to the window, pressing his hands flat against the wall on either side to steady himself as he watched the heavy snowfall that was easily coating the grounds around the house. He squinted into the darkness, seeing shadows moving below.

"His wolves," Sylar said from right behind him, "he's getting them ready to go."

"I don't have my gun. I don't have any weapons," Mohinder said, "there has to be something in the house, something we can use."

Mohinder rushed out of the room to the kitchen, rummaging through the contents in the drawers. He wrapped his hand around the hilt of a large cutting knife. Sylar came in after him, shaking his head.

"You won't even get close enough to use that," Sylar said.

"We're in the middle of nowhere. The owner of this place must have hunted occasionally, maybe he has a gun," Mohinder said, brushing past Sylar to search the rest of the rooms. He found no shot-gun or rifle, and after most of the contents of the house were spilled out on the floor he stopped, looking up at Sylar with frightened eyes. Mohinder collapsed onto the couch, running his shaking hands through his messy curls. Sylar sat down next to him, rubbing Mohinder's back with his right hand.

"It'll be okay," he said.

"No, no it won't. I don't even have time to say goodbye to Molly. I can't-I can't..." Mohinder looked anxiously at the floor, "I'll write her a letter. You can get it to her. He won't hurt you."

Mohinder kneeled on the floor and picked up a piece of paper and a pencil from the random mess of items. He hastily scribbled a note, his hand shaking so hard that he tore the paper in several parts. Sylar slid down to the floor beside him, wrapping his right arm around Mohinder's waist, and pulling the man toward him. Mohinder allowed himself to be held, his body trembling in Sylar's arms.

"I'm sorry I made you come all the way up here for nothing," Mohinder said.

"I'm not," Sylar said, pressing his mouth to the side of Mohinder's head.

Sylar flinched, and Mohinder turned to look at him in surprise.

"What's wro..."

Mohinder was interrupted by a sharp crack at the front door. He scrambled to a standing position. Sylar stood too, turning toward the door, and maneuvering himself slightly in front of Mohinder. Snow swirled in the hall, some even coming to rest on the livingroom carpet as Mohinder and Sylar both watched. Boots thudded across the carpet as The Snowman walked through the hall, standing on the threshold of the livingroom.

"Evening," he said as he looked from Sylar to Mohinder, his deep voice sending a shiver down the shorter man's spine. Sylar gritted his teeth, moving his left hand back to grasp Mohinder's right wrist reassuringly.

"It's time to go," the Snowman said, beckoning to Mohinder.

Sylar's grip tightened on Mohinder's arm, and he sucked in a deep breath.

"He's not going with you," Sylar said.

"I thought we already went over this," the Snowman said, dropping his arm to his side with an annoyed sigh.

"He's not going with you because I'm going in his place," Sylar said.

"No," Mohinder turned to Sylar in horror.

"It's okay," Sylar said, smiling at him.

The Snowman tilted his head slightly, getting a read on Sylar.

"And what makes you think I'd take you?"

"You said he was a pure soul because he would sacrifice himself for others. Whatever I've done in the past, giving myself to you right now in his place should be worthy of your ability, right?"

"Sylar, don't do this," Mohinder begged. His eyes were glittering with the threat of tears. Sylar squeezed Mohinder's hand in his.

"

What do you say?" Sylar asked, looking pointedly at the Snowman. The latter man nodded finally. Mohinder clutched Sylar's arm, forcing him to turn and acknowledge his lover.

"Sylar," Mohinder swallowed hard.

"You have a daughter, and a life. There are a million people out there for you to help," Sylar said, pulling Mohinder close to him, an inch away from his lover's long dark lashes, "I have nothing, but you."

The tears fell from Mohinder's eyes as he faced Sylar, the man he'd been willing to kill so many times before. The man whose sacrifice now made Mohinder feel as though someone were tearing at his very soul.

"Please."

"I wanted to fix everything for so long. I wanted to fix you, but it turns out you fixed me."

Sylar leaned forward and kissed Mohinder. It was passionate, sweet, and all too short as Sylar stepped away from the one man who had helped him find heaven for a short time. He grinned at Mohinder as he followed the Snowman down the snow coated hall, and outside. Mohinder followed them, stopping in the doorway when he felt the familiar invisible force holding him back. He watched as Sylar, turning to look up at him one last time, got on the sled with the Snowman. Mohinder trembled as they took off into the darkness. The telekinetic hold faded slowly away, and he fell against the doorway, sliding down into a sitting position, leaning his head against a trembling hand as he sobbed. Snow covered him as he sat there, the world becoming a blanket of white nothingness.

One Month Later

"Mohinder, they're saying it's the most snow we've seen in a century!" Molly called excitedly from the livingroom of their apartment.

Mohinder looked out the window to the street below which was piled with over two feet of snow. The white stuff was still coming down hard.

"They say that the snow we're getting now came from a storm front that moved down from Northern Canada," Molly added.

Mohinder swallowed hard, wiping a tear quickly from his eye as Molly ran into the kitchen to see him.

"Can we go play?"

"Of course," Mohinder said with a forced smile.

In no time, Molly had put all her snow clothes on, and was dragging Mohinder out the door with her. They trekked through the street, stopping to stand in the middle of it. Molly plopped down on her back and began to make a snow angel. Mohinder grinned at her. Then he turned his dark eyes up to the sky, catching brilliant white flakes of snow on his lashes, and blinking them away. Mohinder closed his eyes and let the snow cover him completely, feeling it embrace him. He could almost feel the warm arms around his waist.

He could just hear the whisper in his ear.

"I love you."


End file.
